Love and Hate
by ntc
Summary: What if Vash had encountered Legato when the not yet demented psychic was still a child? Could Vash's self imposed isolation from the mortals on Gunsmoke have contributed to the creation of his most powerful nemesis?
1. Love

**Disclaimer: **Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

**A/N:** The idea of Vash meeting a young Legato was brought up by one of the reviewers of my previous fic, Lady Shadowcat, and so I've decided to try writing a short story based on this possible scenario. I would like to thank ReadingWhiz89 for answering my questions regarding Legato's past. This fic is also written for WolfDaughter, who had expressed a wish to read more pre-series Trigun fics.

This story is quite dark in my opinion, so be mentally prepared for some potentially upsetting scenes. (Rated for language and some violence)

**Love and Hate  
A Trigun fanfiction by ntc**

_Part 1: Love_

_'There is no greater hatred than that which springs from love.'  
- An Old Earth saying -  
_

The blows came fast and hard. The thin blue-haired boy, who was barely ten years of age, did not even try to defend himself. He had learnt, through experience, that fighting back always resulted in a more severe and prolonged beating. If he remained quiet and smiled the whole time, his abuser would quickly lose interest in this daily ritual. Perhaps his abuser, thinking that he actually enjoyed experiencing physical pain, would deny him that for that reason alone. However, there were other forms of punishment that could be dished out. Hunger and thirst had been his constant companions for as long as he could remember.

"Dog!" snarled his abuser, adding another kick to his temple. The spurs on the heel of the man's boot tore open his skin and drew blood, but he continued to smile. "You good-for-nothin' bastard!" Finally tired out, the panting man whom he called 'father' stopped his assault and trod to the kitchen of the derelict old house they lived in.

The boy heard the sound of a cork being pulled out of a glass bottle. His father was soon guzzling down the cheap wine in huge gulps. He remained still on the floor, hoping that the older man would pass out from his drink soon. He desperately wanted to get up and clean the blood from his face before it could stain the rug in the lounge. The last time he dirtied the rug, his father had starved him for a week.

"You're just like your filthy mother," said the man who was now sitting on a couch a few feet from where his bleeding body was lying. "Ran to the arms of another man, she did. She even had the gall to blame me for her filthy ways!" Alcohol always did have the ability to loosen his father's tongue. "Spouted some nonsense about not paying enough attention to her and such. Bah! That whore got her wish in the end, didn't she? I paid her lots of attention. Her and her lover both." His father laughed at this point, a laughter tinged with madness. "My only regret is that I didn't do it sooner. Otherwise a foul spawn such as you would never have the chance to be born. And I wouldn't have to put up with your ugly face everyday for so many years…"

The boy listened to the rants and ravings of the drunk man until they dwindled into slurred mumblings and finally into silence. What baffled him was that his father tended to weep at the end of his rants, often crying out for forgiveness from his dead mother. Even after spending years of hellish co-existence with that man, the boy still could not understand him.

At times like this, he would begin to think… If he died, would his father weep for him?

xXxXxXx

"Dog! Dog!" chorused the kids who were roughly his age as he walked past them in the streets. "Freak!" He did what he usually did in such circumstances. He completely ignored them. After putting up with his father's fierce abuse, their enmity was nothing more than an annoyance in his eyes.

The biggest boy in the group, the town bully, picked up a rock and was about to hurl it at him when a gloved hand clamped down on the wrist of his potential attacker.

"Tut-tut. That's no way to behave towards someone who has done you no harm," admonished a gentle voice.

The bully struggled to free his hand, but to no avail. "Who the hell are you! Mind yer own business!"

"I…" The stranger cleared his throat loudly and launched into a passionate speech. "…am the defender of the weak, the protector of the innocent, the hunter of the elusive… YEOW!" The bully had stomped on one of the stranger's booted feet. The red-clad weirdo hopped around like a demented rabbit, lost his balance and ended up sprawled out on the ground, twitching and moaning.

For a few moments, the children just stared at the whimpering stranger, not quite knowing how to respond. Then the bully stirred them into action by shouting, "Let's get him!" They piled on top of him and started to twist his limbs in ways that were rewarded with fresh cries of agony.

The boy impassively watched the strange man being tortured for a while before continuing on his way to the saloon. He needed to buy more booze for his father.

XXxXxXx

The stranger approached him when he was walking back to his house. "That was cold. You didn't even stay around to see if I'm okay; despite all the trouble I went through to help you."

He levelled a steely gaze at the stranger, hoping that his golden eyes would unnerve the man as they normally did everyone else. "I didn't ask for your help."

The stranger met his gaze unflinchingly. "That's not the point." Those aquamarine orbs that looked back at him held an emotion he was not accustomed to seeing. Compassion. "Why did you let those kids call you names like that? You're only encouraging them if you don't stand up for yourself."

The boy was the one to break eye contact first. He was not used to people looking at him without disgust or prejudice. "They were only calling out my name."

"What?" said the stranger, a surprised note in his voice.

"My name is Dog," The boy waited for the snicker that usually followed every time he told someone his name. He didn't hear any. "That's what my father calls me."

"Your father doesn't sound like a nice person."

The boy was perplexed by the hint of anger he detected in the stranger's voice. What was he angry about? "He keeps me alive. That's enough for me."

"Did your father give you those wounds on your face too?"

He said nothing and continued walking. His father had warned him about what would happen if he ever told anyone about the beatings. However, it was not only out of fear that he had kept quiet about his situation. There wasn't a single soul in town who would be willing to do anything to help him, even if they knew. Sometimes, when the loneliness became unbearable and he reached out to the minds of the people around him, he would discover how much they truly loathed him. They knew about him and how he was conceived, and their sympathies lay with his father.

Keeping in pace beside him, the stranger said, "I don't mean to pry, but I really wish you would let me help you."

He gritted his teeth. "I don't want your pity or your help!" '_Don't give me hope_,' his mind silently begged. '_Don't make me feel again._'

He sprinted away, desperate to get away from the stranger and his false promises. When he could no longer sense the stranger behind him, he slowed down and leaned against the wall of a building to catch his breath. He was already dizzy from hunger and the exertion had drained him of what little energy he had left. His knees wobbled as a wave of nausea swept over him.

The boy slowly turned to look back at the area from which he came. The stranger had not even attempted to chase after him. He felt disappointment well up inside him. He blinked in confusion. That wasn't right. Why should he feel disappointed at all? Why should he feel _anything_ at all?

"Boo!"

The unexpected shout startled him sufficiently to make him drop the paper bag he was carrying. There was a crash and tinkle of broken glass and the paper bag was soon soaked through with red wine. All he could think of as he stared at the gradually expanding wet patch on the ground was whether he would survive his father's punishment this time.

"Um… Oh dear."

The boy now recognized the voice to be that of the nosy stranger's. Apparently the stranger had snuck up behind him by walking around the building he was leaning against. A pressure built up at the back of his head and he nearly unleashed it on his well-meaning tormentor. He stopped himself just in time, too exhausted to even feel any emotion.

"I'm so sorry!" wailed the stranger, his face scrunched up with guilt. "I'll pay for the wine. No, better yet, I'll buy you double- no, make that triple- of whatever was inside that bag, as compensation for the inconvenience and everything."

"I don't want…" He paused. What was he doing? The stranger was offering a solution to his predicament and here he was, rejecting it out of hand just because he disliked charity of any kind.

"Oh, don't be like that." The tall, lanky stranger knelt down until they were eye-to-eye. Reluctantly, the boy locked gazes with him again. He may not be familiar with compassion, but he could not deny that it made him feel… good. He just had to be careful not to get too used to it. "Say what, why don't we head back to the saloon together? You just point out what you need and I'll pay for it." The stranger smiled. "At the same time, let's check out the nice eating spots in this town and see what we can have for lunch. I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

The boy surprised himself by nodding.

xXxXxXx

"Whoa, kid, you'd better slow down a bit before you choke on that hot dog."

With his mouth full of partially masticated bun and sausage, the boy was unable to reply. However, he did put in a few extra chews before swallowing as an indication that he had heard.

The stranger watched him wolf down the rest of the food set out on the table before them with a huge grin plastered on his face. Feeling a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny, the boy paused with a spaghetti-wrapped fork poised near his mouth and asked, "Why do you look so happy?"

"Because you are" was the cryptic reply.

A period of thoughtful silence passed. "I'm not happy."

"Sometimes the smallest pleasures are the ones that matter the most," said the stranger. "You often can't fix all the big problems in your life, but you can start with the small ones, such as filling an empty stomach."

To distract himself from the despair that came with the realization that he was powerless to fix even the smallest problems of his life, the boy resumed eating. Was this his fate? To survive only by the mercy or charity of someone else?

"Kid." The stranger's tone grew serious. "Aside from filling your stomach, is there anything else I can do to help you?"

The boy set his fork down on the plate and got up to leave. "None whatsoever." No one could help him; much less a weak goof who couldn't even defend himself against a group of prepubescent kids.

Undaunted by the cold rejection, the stranger grinned. "I think somebody needs a big hug."

"Wha…?" Before the boy could react, the stranger had wrapped his long arms around his slight frame and squeezed tightly. Taken by surprise, he could not stop the hiss of pain from escaping his lips.

The stranger quickly backed off. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you…" Then understanding dawned and the look of worry was replaced by that of anger. "Was it your father who did this to you?"

Cradling his injured side where two of his fractured ribs had not yet fully healed, the boy snapped, "Just keep away from me!" He exited the diner without a backward glance.

xXxXxXx

It was quiet in the house when he got back. The boy tiptoed into the living room and darted a glance at the couch only to find it empty. He was hoping that his father would still be in an inebriated sleep when he returned. Now his father would undoubtedly demand why he took so long to purchase the wine, most probably by beating the answer out of him instead of just asking. Clutching the bottles of wine closer to himself, he walked towards the kitchen… where his father was waiting for him.

The hitting began immediately after the wine bottles were snatched from his grasp and placed safely on the table. There was no sense in wasting alcohol which, in his father's eyes, was worth much more than him.

"So what have you been doing while you're out, you lil' bastard?" A vicious kick aimed directly at his stomach caused the boy to throw up part of his lunch. Upon seeing that, his father's visage darkened into a murderous scowl. "You ungrateful thief! You've been using my money to buy food for yourself!" The boy could not even protest his innocence as he was hauled up by the collar and slapped repeatedly.

With his head ringing from the blows and his vision darkening around the edges, the boy flitted in and out of consciousness. When he next opened his eyes, he found himself in the embrace of the stranger with the kindly eyes. It took him a few moments to realize that his father's onslaught had not ceased. The only difference was that he was no longer bearing the brunt of the attacks because the stranger was shielding him with his own body. The stranger and his father were arguing about something, but he was too dazed to make out the words. The boy wanted to shout at his rescuer to leave him, to fight back, to do anything except stay by his side and incur further injuries from his father's brutal punches and kicks; but he was too choked up to utter any sound. His tiny body, hardly anything more than skin and bones, was lifted up easily as the stranger got up from his crouched position.

"… barging in here…" His father's guttural roars were starting to register in his mind. "… mine to discipline however I please!"

"I'm taking this boy with me," said the stranger, his relatively softer voice somehow displaying more strength than his father's thunderous bellows. "You can do whatever you like to me, but I won't leave him with you for another second."

His father glared at the stranger. "You think I'm a monster, don't you? I'm only treating the boy like the worthless scum that he is! He doesn't deserve anything less from me!"

"No, sir. It is you who don't deserve him."

Enraged, his father grabbed the wine bottle on the table and smashed it over the stranger's head. The boy nearly cried out when the warm droplets of blood splattered on his face. The stranger merely grunted and tried to smile reassuringly at him. "Don't be afraid, kid. I won't die so easily." Holding him tight against his chest, the stranger began to move towards the main door of the house.

"Do you think I'll let you take him away from me that easily!" His father was still gripping the bottle neck with the jagged edges and was brandishing it like a weapon. "Put the boy down!"

The stranger's back was turned, so perhaps he didn't realize the danger he was in. The boy, however, was able to see the mad fury in his father's eyes and he knew that his father would have no qualms about plunging the broken glass bottle into the unsuspecting stranger's back. Instinctively, the boy did what he had never dared to do before. He lashed out with his mind. The barriers around his father's mind crumbled like mouldy cheese under his mental onslaught and he forcefully sent a tendril of his will into his father's mind. Once he took the first step, the rest seemed so easy. At that moment, he knew that he could get his father to do whatever he wished. Through the mind link, he was in total control of his father's body. He could even make his father slice his own throat with that glass…

_Stop it._

The gentle command came from someone else. Who could it…?

"Stop it," echoed a voice that was spoken aloud. The boy hurriedly withdrew, but not before he sent his father into a deep sleep that would last for at least an hour. His father's body collapsed onto the floor with a thud.

The boy saw that the stranger was looking at him curiously. He was sure that his own expression mirrored the stranger's. There was only one way to find out if what he suspected was true.

_You can hear me, can't you?_

The stranger hesitated before answering him in the same way that rendered vocal cords unnecessary. _Yes. You are pretty loud in your thoughts._

Before he knew it, the boy started crying. His long search for a kindred spirit who shared his abilities was over. Someone who would not consider him a freak of nature. Someone who would accept him as he was. He had been so alone, so lonely, for so long.

_Hey, don't cry. It wasn't something I said, was it? _

In response, the boy grasped the lapels of the red trench coat tightly in a death grip. The darkness of sleep claimed him shortly afterwards.

_(To be concluded) _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**A/N: **This story turned out longer than I originally planned, so it'll be broken up into two parts. I apologize for the heavy angst factor in this fic. It just wasn't possible for me to imagine Legato's childhood as being a happy or even a normal one. Once again, any feedback is much appreciated :)


	2. Hate

**Disclaimer: **Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

**Love and Hate  
****A Trigun fanfiction by ntc**

_Part 2: Hate_

_'When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered… I was a brute beast…'_  
- Psalm 73:21-22 -

He woke up in a panic, the fear of losing something important tugging relentlessly at the edges of his awareness. He found himself lying on a soft bed in a small room. After sleeping on hard floors all his life with nothing more than the clothes on his back to shield him from the biting night chill, the sensation of sleeping on a bed was a novelty to him. Gripped tightly in his fists was a thick trench coat that partly served as a blanket covering him from neck down. His memories of what had happened came rushing back and the boy frantically sat up and looked around for the coat's owner. Upon finding the room empty, his anxiety shot up a notch and he projected out a mental shout, desperately seeking the familiar mind which he had touched far too briefly.

_Where are you?_ To his dismay, the boy realized that he didn't even know the stranger's name. _Where are you? _However, he knew that only the one he sought would be able to hear him. _Where are you?_

There was a crash outside the room he was in, followed by a yelp. _Urk! Not so loud, kid! It's not even 7 o'clock yet. Do you always wake up at such insanely early hours? _

The boy was too relieved to feel any contrition for what he had done. He repeated his question. _Where are you?_

The door to his room swung open to admit the stranger, now clothed in a complex-looking black suit. The boy felt a stab of guilt when he saw the bloody bandages around stranger's head. "We're in a motel a couple of iles north of your hometown. I felt that it was necessary to leave that town, in case your father decides to send a lynch mob after us."

The boy flinched at what he thought was a rebuke. "I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble…"

"Hey, that was a joke. Don't get all upset now." The stranger sat down on the bed next to him and ruffled his hair- a simple gesture which caused a warm feeling to spread inside his chest. "You're still a kid, so don't act so serious all the time."

"What if my father comes after me?" asked the boy timidly, as if he was dreading the answer he would receive. "Will you send me away… back to him?"

The stranger's eyes hardened with stubborn determination. "Not if I can help it." Those very same eyes softened in a heartbeat. "And not if you don't wish it."

The boy swallowed the lump that had suddenly grown in his throat. "What is your name?"

"Erm…" The stranger was obviously puzzled by the sudden change of topic. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't want you to remain a stranger anymore," replied the boy truthfully.

The grin on the stranger's face was so bright, he'd swear that it emitted a light of its own. "Just call me Vash."

"Vash…" The boy repeated the name slowly, as if he was trying to imprint it on his mind.

"Yes," said Vash, still grinning. "And what about you?"

Not comprehending the question, the boy asked, "What about me?"

"I refuse to call you by the name your father had given you, and I can't call you 'kid' all the time. So what shall I call you instead?"

"I… don't know." His lower lip trembled. He had never owned anything in his life. Not even something so basic as a name. He wiped the tears from his eyes in frustration. He was never this weepy before. His emotions had become increasingly unstable since he met Vash. The boy was not sure whether it was a blessing or a curse to start feeling these emotions again- emotions which he had spent years numbing himself to.

A long arm fell across his shoulders and the boy turned his head to find Vash watching him with troubled eyes. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," he lied.

"I know just the thing to cheer you up," said Vash, acting like he hadn't heard him. "There's a place around here that serves the most wonderful pancakes. You just stay put and rest. I'll bring back some for you to try out." Vash stood up and got ready to leave the room.

Ignoring the protests from his aching body, the boy quickly dragged himself out of bed to follow. "I'll come with you." He could not explain why he felt this inexplicable fear at the thought of Vash leaving him. Wasn't he used to being alone? What had Vash done to him?

"Kid, I still think it's better that you…"

"No, I'm fine!" The boy willed his knees to stop shaking. "I'm fine," he said, more softly this time.

"If you say so," said Vash uncertainly. The boy could see that his weak condition still worried Vash, but the man had chosen to give in so as to avoid upsetting him further. "I'll wait for you outside while you get changed."

"Change?" He had nothing to change into. His father had not deemed it necessary to provide him with more than one set of clothing at a time. What used to be an old shirt and faded pants had been reduced to tatters through continual wear and tear.

"I tried my best to estimate your size but I'm afraid that some of these might still be a bit too big for you." Shirts, jackets, trousers and even socks were taken out of a drawer and placed on the bed. "Not to worry, though. You'll grow into them soon enough." Vash smiled at him. "Your growth spurt should be just around the corner."

The boy tentatively fingered the smooth, intact fabric that felt so different from the dirty rags that clung to his frame. "Thank you," he whispered. And he meant it for more than the clothes.

He didn't even realize that his eyes were leaking tears until Vash lightly brushed them away from his cheeks. Strangely enough, it was Vash who appeared flustered and embarrassed. "I seem to have a knack of making you cry, kid."

"It's all your fault," the boy accused, locking his thin arms around Vash's neck and hugging him fiercely. He was oblivious to the strangled noises coming from the other man.

xXxXxXx

The boy now had a name. Kid.

Vash was the one who made it a name. After traveling together for several days, the boy was so used to being called 'kid' by Vash that he later declared that it would be his name henceforth. Vash initially tried to get him to change his mind, claiming that a name should not be chosen so frivolously. However, the boy could see no reason why Vash should change the way he called him.

In return for the gift of a name, Kid decided to buy something for Vash.

The shopkeeper eyed him like a hawk when he entered the goods store. _I'm not here._ In response to that subliminal command, those suspicious eyes soon glazed over and slid away from him. Kid had discovered that if he sent that thought into someone's mind repeatedly, he could essentially make himself invisible. It was a skill that proved to be very useful, for he no longer had to pay for anything he wanted. However, he had to be careful not to let Vash find out. He had a strong feeling that Vash would disapprove of his actions and he didn't wish to lose the man's trust. So, in order to put on the appearance of having purchased the things he wanted instead of merely taking them, he had to ask for money from Vash. The borrowed money would be secretly placed back in Vash's duffel bag the next day.

His eyes roamed the shelves that displayed a myriad of items, ranging from antique coin boxes to photo frames to pretty-but-useless ornaments. A pair of sunglasses, with lenses glowing golden with the play of sunlight across it, finally caught his attention. Kid took the sunglasses from the display shelf and held it gently between his fingers. He imagined a pair of aquamarine eyes being overlaid by a shield of gold and he smiled at the thought.

The shopkeeper did not even look up when he walked out of the store with the unpaid merchandise in his hand.

xXxXxXx

_Where are we going?_ Kid had been content to just follow Vash wherever he went, but he was too curious to remain silent any longer.

"July." He was disappointed that Vash didn't communicate with him in mind-speech more often. It was almost as if the man was shunning the intimacy that came with the linking of minds. To Kid, nothing could have felt more natural, more _right_. Spoken words are such clumsy tools of communication. "I know a nice lady who manages an orphanage there. Perhaps she could take you in."

"What?" Kid was so startled that he had voiced the question aloud. _What do you mean?_

Vash took out the sunglasses from his coat pocket and wore it to obscure his eyes. At any other time, Kid would have felt a tingle of joy upon seeing his present being used by the man he owed his life to. This time, however, he hated the fact that those reflecting lenses effectively hid Vash's true expression from him. With Vash refusing to open his mind to him, Kid had to rely on what he saw in the eyes to sense what Vash was thinking.

"You'll like her. Clarice has been taking care of orphans and abandoned children for many years and she…"

_Why are you telling me this?_ Kid could not keep the fear he felt from seeping into his words. _I don't want to stay with her. I want to stay with you!_

Vash said nothing for a while. That significant pause exposed more of Vash's intentions than if he had spoken. "Kid, I…"

The rest of what Vash said was lost to him. The word 'abandoned' whirled in his mind mockingly and he could hear his father's sneering voice in the background. '_Everyone hates you, you filthy bastard. Just look at yourself. The closest thing to love that you would ever experience is pity, you pitiful and worthless shit.'_

"… dangerous for you. You'll be safer with her." His internal turmoil must have shown on his face, for Vash stopped talking and looked at him with concern. "Are you alright, Kid?"

"Liar!" he spat, hating the tears that had welled up in his eyes. _You promised you wouldn't send me away!_

"I said that I won't send you back to your father." There was a look of pain on Vash's face… or was it pity? "Please understand that I can't…"

"You're worse than my father!" he shouted. Kid lost control. Where before he had respected Vash's personal space and desire for privacy, no such inhibitions held him back now. He made a concentrated attack on the mental shields blocking him from Vash's mind; striking, searching, probing. The shields proved to be more formidable than he expected but he would not give up. He didn't care what happened to his own mind. He didn't care that he was slowly losing parts of himself to the psychic backlash of forcing himself through those strong shields.

_Stop it, Kid! You'll destroy yourself if you continue on like this!_ On the physical plane, Vash was shaking his unresponsive body roughly in an attempt to break the trance.

It was already too late for him to withdraw even if he wanted to. He was fully immersed in the storm that was slowly tearing his psyche apart. He knew that Vash would never knowingly carry out such a mental assault on him. What he felt now must be the innate defenses of Vash's subconscious. Just when he thought his self would unravel completely, Vash opened up to him. It was like witnessing the code to an impenetrable safe being revealed in front of him. Kid's sharp mind automatically memorized the code, knowing that it would allow him easy access to Vash's mind from then on. He knew that he was taking advantage of Vash's compassion this way, but he would not let his conscience stop him from doing what was necessary to prevent Vash from abandoning him. He would not allow Vash to leave him. He would not. He might never catch Vash in such a vulnerable state again. Now all he had to do was turn Vash into a docile puppet who would be his to…

Kid froze, the shock of what he was about to do finally sinking in. Images of their moments together swept across his mind, and a small voice- one that became louder only in Vash's presence- was trying to persuade him to release Vash; to stop him from irreparably damaging something precious. Feelings of self-loathing crashed down upon him and he quickly retreated from Vash's mind. How could he do that to Vash? He was like a rabid dog biting the hand that fed it.

"I… I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse, partly from disuse and partly from the riot of emotions running through his system at that moment. "I'm so sorry. I won't do that again…" When Vash did not reply, he fell onto his knees and seized one of the long coat tails in a subservient attitude. "Just let me stay by your side. I'm willing to do anything- anything at all- as long as you let me stay with you. Use me however you wish. I can be useful to you."

As his head was bowed reverently, he missed seeing the look of revulsion that momentarily twisted Vash's features. "Kid…" said Vash hesitantly, almost distantly. Was Vash still angry with him for his mental intrusion just now?

And who could blame him?

Kid pleaded on. "Even if what you feel for me is only pity, I don't mind. I know I'm not worthy of love…"

"Don't ever say that!" Vash had lowered himself so that they were at the same level. Comforting arms enveloped Kid and held him tight. "I do care about you, and I would do everything in my power to keep you safe."

For now, those words were enough to calm Kid down. His sobbing gradually ceased and he fell asleep in Vash's arms a second time, exhausted by the psychic powers he had expended earlier.

He failed to notice that Vash still had not promised to let him stay by his side.

xXxXxXx

"Kid, this is Clarice Valentinez. Clarice, meet Kid."

The petite woman, dressed in a plain cotton dress with an apron in front, appeared to be in her early thirties. Although she possessed a friendly smile and a kind-looking face, Kid failed to warm up to her. In his eyes, she was a two-faced demon who was trying to tear him away from Vash. He glowered at her from where he was standing behind Vash. "Kid?" she repeated, her inflection making it a question.

The sound of his name being uttered by someone other than Vash ground on his nerves. Who gave this woman the right to call him by that name?

Vash rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "He… uh… doesn't have a surname. 'Kid' is a name I sort of picked for him."

The woman shook her head in an annoying, condescending way. "Trust you to give so little thought to something like this, Vash." How dare she call Vash by his first name! Who was this woman? "Couldn't you come up with a better…"

"I happen to like the name 'Kid'," he growled. Kid knew that his resentment towards the woman was baseless and he was puzzled as to why he felt it so strongly.

Both Vash and the woman turned to look at him. Under their combined gazes, Kid became uncomfortable and retreated further behind Vash's body.

"I apologize," said the woman, smiling gently at him. "Oh, where are my manners? Do come in and make yourselves comfortable. I presume that you two will be joining us for lunch?"

"We would love to," said Vash, beaming. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"And why are we so formal with each other now?" The woman sounded sad. "Could it have something to do with the fact that it had been five years since you last came here?"

Kid looked up at Vash's face and saw the painful smile that he had come to recognize. He hated the woman for being able to do that to Vash. "You're angry," said Vash softly.

"Don't I have the right to be?" she demanded. "You disappear for years and just wind up at my doorstep suddenly one day. This isn't the first time it happened, so I guess I should be used to it by now."

Before Vash could answer her, he was bowled over by a horde of children of various ages who chanted "Vash! Vash!" at the top of their lungs. Kid, whose reflexes spared him from the fate of winding up at the bottom of the small human hill, fought the urge to dislocate all the joints in their arms with his talent. Their familiar behaviour with Vash angered him for some reason. "Did you miss me?" asked one young girl with pigtails. "See how tall I've grown!" chirruped another boy with freckled cheeks.

The sadistic woman giggled, apparently enjoying Vash's current situation. "Now leave our guest alone for now, you lot. It's almost lunchtime. Those of you on duty should set up the table now. The rest of you line up at the sink and get your hands washed."

The children reluctantly pulled away, leaving behind a twitching Vash on the floor. Kid was not sorry to see them leave. He would have to think of a way to prevent something like this from happening again. Vash was just not capable of taking care of himself sometimes.

"Help… me…" croaked Vash, his inert body lying prone on the floor.

"You deserve it," the woman sniffed. She walked away without even bothering to check if Vash was okay.

Kid stepped forward to help Vash up. _How can you stand someone like her? She's evil!_

"Clarice may appear rough on the outside, but she's really cotton-candy underneath." Vash's facial expression turned wistful. "She hasn't changed at all, after all these years."

_You talk as if you've known her for a long time._

Vash said nothing in reply.

xXxXxXx

Two weeks had passed and Kid was beginning to wonder whether they would ever leave the orphanage. Vash had even shed his usual attire and was walking around the place in a casual shirt and denims, looking as if he was settling down in this place for good.

After much prompting from Vash, the children in the orphanage had tried extending the hand of friendship to him. Kid, however, was swift to dispel any such notions with a beady, hostile eye. If that didn't work, he would flash them his rictus grin that would send even the most staunch-hearted fleeing from him. He had no need for friends. He had Vash.

To his consternation, Vash spent most of his time interacting with the horrible children. Kid saw how happy they were with Vash and it made him angry and sad at the same time. He wanted to believe that he was the only person in Vash's life, but clearly this was not the case. He was only fooling himself if he thought he was the only child that Vash cared about.

His train of thought was disrupted when he saw a group of children attempting a flying tackle at Vash. Kid casually sent a mental probe into one of the boys in the group and caused him to trip over his own feet. The boy stumbled into the girl next to him, setting up a domino effect which ended with all of them falling flat on their faces a few feet away from Vash. A few of the younger ones burst into tears, causing Vash and another employee in the orphanage to rush forward to console them.

Kid turned away from the sight, ignoring the twinge of guilt in his gut. He was only trying to protect Vash. He didn't do anything wrong.

"May I sit next to you?"

He frowned when he saw that it was the woman named Clarice who had spoken. "No," he replied bluntly.

She didn't seem to mind his callous manner. "That means I'll just have to stand next to you then," she said cheerily, and proceeded to do just that.

"Go away," he snapped, not liking the close proximity he was forced to share with the woman.

"Why do you dislike me so much, Kid?"

"I don't dislike you. I hate you."

That killed the conversation effectively for a while. However, the woman made no move to walk away. "Do you hate living here?"

Kid gave the question some serious thought. To be honest, living in the orphanage would be infinitely better than living with his abusive father. But no matter how warm and inviting the environment was, he would still find it intolerable if Vash wasn't there. "I don't mind if Vash lives here too."

"I can see that you're very fond of that old goof." The woman chuckled. "I understand how you feel. I was once like you as well."

_Old?_ Kid finally voiced the question that had been niggling at the back of his mind for the past two weeks. "What's your relationship with Vash?"

"He's a family friend," she said simply. Kid could tell that she was hiding something but decided to leave it at that for the moment.

xXxXxXx

He knew that something was wrong the moment he opened his eyes. His suspicions were confirmed when he failed to sense Vash's mental presence no matter how far he projected his questing mind outwards. Either Vash was out of range or he had set up concealing shields to avoid any contact with him. In his haste, Kid nearly tripped over the blankets as he got out of bed and ran towards the guest room where Vash was staying. He should never have agreed to sleep in a separate room. He should have suspected that something like this would happen. Vash… Vash had wanted to leave him all along. The time they had spent in the orphanage was merely a ruse to make him drop his guard. His heart sank when he stepped into the empty room. The cupboard no longer held any of Vash's clothing and his duffel bag was gone. His vision blurred with hot tears and he began gasping; Vash's betrayal cutting deep and making it difficult for him to breathe. He heard someone moaning in anguish and it took him a while to realize that that someone was him.

Summoned by the inhuman cries emitting from his throat, a few of the children and that other female, the orphanage employee, turned up at the entrance of the room and peeked in. He felt someone's hand on his shoulder and his anguish transformed into blind rage in an instant. Screams filled the air as he viciously twisted the offending arm with his telekinesis. Soon, more screams joined the first. The children who were present were crying out in fear. _Useless, weak cockroaches!_ They were also guilty of taking Vash away from him. They deserved to suffer the same fate. He was about to unleash his fearsome power on them when the woman Clarice turned up at the scene. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"Kid!"

"Don't…" he snarled through clenched teeth. "… call me that!" He _repelled_ the woman, sending her body crashing into the wall of the room. He laughed at her futile attempts to break free from his hold. "Where's Vash? You should know where he is! Tell me before I make you tear your black heart out!"

The woman tried to put on a semblance of calm. "He has left and I don't know where he has gone to." A slight quiver in her voice betrayed her fear.

"You lie!" The woman stifled a scream when he bent her left arm beyond its normal range of movement. "Tell me where he is!"

"I… don't know what I can do to convince you…" Tears were streaming down the woman's cheeks. "If you can search for the truth with your mind, then do it! You'll know that I'm not lying!"

He did not need to be prompted twice. Desperate to find out Vash's whereabouts, he delved into the woman's memories. He sought out the most recent ones; the ones where she had met Vash for the last time that day…

-----------------

It was dawn when she made her way to the cemetery along Chapel Street. A lone figure dressed in the familiar blood-red trench coat was standing in front of her grandfather's tombstone.

"How did you know where to find me?" asked Vash, his back still turned towards her. She noticed that he had his duffel bag slung over a shoulder.

"I know you always drop by here before you leave." The woman looked down at her wringing hands at this point. "A bunch of fresh geraniums always appear on his tombstone in the same morning you disappear."

She walked closer and stood alongside Vash. The tombstone before her was of a simple design, with the name 'Alexander Valentinez' chiseled onto it in big bold letters. For several minutes, neither spoke; each of them too absorbed in their own thoughts.

"You miss him, don't you?" said the woman. "When I was young, Father used to tell me many tales of you and grandfather. About how the two of you robbed bandits for a living for a period of time; and also how, together, both of you managed to save a Native American tribe from extinction. Was he as crazy as they say he was?

"No," said Vash, shuddering at some unpleasant memory. "He was much worse." His smile took away the sting of his words. "He was a great man though. I owe him so much."

"Is that why you feel obligated to watch over us, his descendants, for so many years?"

"I don't do it out of obligation. I do it because I consider all of you my kin."

"If you do, then why don't you spend more time with us? Why do you always come and go like a drifting cloud? How many years will it be this time? Ten? Twenty?" she said bitterly. "It's ironic when I think that you're the one with endless time on your side, and yet you can't find the time for us. We're the ones who are slaves to time. We age and we die. We won't live forever."

"I know," said Vash, sadness colouring his tones. "But there is something I must do first. I can't allow myself a life of peace until that is achieved."

"And you won't allow any of us to help you in this quest of yours either."

"It's too dangerous for me to involve anyone else," said Vash. "However, there is something you can do to help me."

"Let me guess. Kid, right?"

Vash nodded. "Can you take care of him while I'm gone?"

"I think you're making a mistake by leaving him here." At Vash's surprised look, she continued, "Don't get me wrong. I'm more than willing to take him in, even if you haven't asked me. However, that child is much too attached to you right now. It would devastate him if you leave him and I'm not sure if he can fully recover from that."

Vash's expression turned melancholic. "It's for the best."

"Huh. And who made you the judge of that?"

"You don't understand… A few weeks ago he…" Vash sighed. "Never mind. Please believe me when I say that it would be better for him if I'm not around."

"I believe you," said the woman, her voice no more than a whisper. "I'll take care of Kid for you, so you just go and do what you have to."

"Thank you." Vash's parting smile would be forever etched in her mind, providing her comfort during those long years of his absence ahead.

-----------------

Back in the present, Kid drew back from the woman's mind and sank onto his knees. The children were still crying and the woman had lost consciousness under his rough ransacking of her mind.

The orphanage employee, with one of her arms dangling uselessly at her side, was screaming blue murder at him. "Monster! Demon!"

He could shut her up permanently by twisting her spine but the effort seemed too much for him. He slowly walked out of the room and the children fearfully scrambled to get out of his way. No one stopped him when he stepped out of the orphanage and onto the streets.

Both his heart and mind were numb. In a daze, he wandered out of the city of July and collapsed onto the hot sand. Lying spread-eagled on the ground, he shielded his golden eyes from the sunlight with an arm that soon became wet with trickling tears. This was last time he would allow himself to cry.

He was no longer Kid. That name would only remind him of that cruel man, that traitor.

Also, he had to get rid of the annoying emotions that Vash had restored to him. He had seen vacant, soulless eyes on the slaves sold in the black markets. That option showed some promise.

If he ever meets Vash again in the future, he would teach that man the price of betrayal. He would teach Vash what eternal pain is like; what true suffering really is.

He looked forward to that day.

_(End of fic)_

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**A/N: **I ended the story this way because I wasn't sure whether to follow the anime or the manga version of events. As we know, July was later destroyed by Vash's out-of-control Angel Arm, so that was roughly the time that a severely injured Knives might have come into contact with a young, deranged Legato. In the manga, however, Legato was rescued from a life of debasement and slavery by Knives in a different city. With this ending, the future story could unfold either way, depending on which one you prefer.

And for those of you wondering who the heck Alexander Valentinez is, he's an OC who made his first appearance in my other Trigun fic 'Early Days'. Yes, I'm shamelessly plugging, I know :)

I heard that putting replies to reviewers in a fic chapter is not allowed. So, if anyone has a problem with this and wants me to take it down, just email me about it and I'll do so. However, I ask that you allow me display the replies for a while- at least until the reviewers whom I'm responding to get a chance to read them first.

**Responses to Reviewers of previous chapter:**

_ReadingWhiz89: _You've been the first reviewer of practically all my fics, and I'm ever grateful for your continual support. Thanks again for helping me explore just how depressing Legato's past was. Yup, I've deliberately left out the names so that readers can guess on their own who the characters were. Legato's name wasn't even mentioned in this entire fic, except in the author's notes and the summary. After all, it was Knives who had named him.

_Celesma:_ Thanks for reviewing! I took quite a few liberties with Vash's and Legato's pasts when I wrote this fic; so take note that most of the stuff written here are not canon, but rather the products of a fanfic writer's overactive imagination :P

_Lady Shadowcat:_ Yay, you're back! Legato's head is a difficult place to get into. I'm glad to hear that I haven't totally butchered his character. I hope Legato had managed to stay in-character even in the second chapter. Thanks for the idea!

_WolfDaughter:_ I aim only to please :D I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story despite its depressing subject content.

_Amia Sanai:_ I don't consider myself as having much of an insight into the child abuse world, really. However, I know of an autobiography by Dave Pelzer titled 'A Child Called 'It'' which can give you a real and graphic account of a child abused by his own mother. Try reading it if you can get hold of a copy.

_Vin-the-Mazoku:_ I hope the conclusion has not disappointed you. Thank you for the review :)


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